Dear vast international pop vulture fan community,
I realize that I may have let you down in that I have not responded personally to as many of your questions as would behoove me. I regret that I have great demands on my time as a certified God of Thunder. Rest assured that when I am not fighting epic magic ninja battles to secure the fate of your world, I am thinking hard about you: Otto in Ohio, who is being bullied because he got his right ear pierced without knowing the cultural significance; Marty in Michigan, who wants to know whether to put a potato in the muffler of his step-dad's camaro, or just cut his throat in his sleep; and especially you Fanny in Fargo - keep sending me those 'special pictures.'
In an attempt to prove my devotion to the pop-vulture nation I recently descended from my high perch to visit one lucky reader in person to discuss his issues. Willie in West Oakland had written me a few weeks back about some trouble he was having with his high school geography homework, and, ironically, finding Willie was more difficult than I anticipated.
When I first arrived in beautiful West Oakland I asked the first person I saw, a local crack-head, if he knew Willie, but he couldn't answer because he was using his mouth to tear open paper salt packets to put on a hardboiled egg he was trying to eat in the middle of a busy thoroughfare.
The next person I met was raking his sidewalk while paramedics extracted gunshot victims from the top floor of his duplex. "Willie!? That kid hella stupid. He live two blocks that way." I thanked him for his kindness (he had also told me where I could score some dope) and went on my way.
When I did finally meet Willie, he was sitting on the stoop in front of his building with his eyes rolled back in his head and a needle hanging out of his arm. I assumed he must be diabetic and that his blood sugar was low, so he was napping for a bit. To pass the time I made my way to one of West Oakland's 53 conveniently located liquor stores, talked politics with some locals, and attended a block party where the girls were 'shakin their thangs,' but when I returned Willie was gone. I can only assume he had gone to seek a tutor. Good for you Willie!
Incidentally, I saw an ambulance pull away from in front of Willie's house, but I was too wasted to notice it at the time. I'm sure it was nothing.
Until next time, say not to drugs, at least until you are old enough to claim you are 'peacefully descenting,' then you can do all the drugs you want.
Love,
The God of Thunder
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